Second Chance
by iamruthesque
Summary: Hiatus. Indefinitely, or until my slave driver editor tells me I can work on it again. A Skip Beat! Love Story.


**Disclaimer**: "Skip Beat!" and all of its characters, settings, names, and agencies are the property of Nakamura Yoshiki. All other characters have been created for entertainment purposes only. Spoilers have been kept to a minimum and are used for timing purposes only. If reading from a monitor, please use adequate light sources and read from a comfortable distance as this chapter is ridiculously long. Comments and criticism are welcome and highly encouraged!

Chapter one has been edited to its final draft! Most edits are superficial or stylistic changes that will not affect the overarching plot--that is, no changes will screw with your mind later in the series if you choose not to read the edits now. However, the scenes listed below have been altered significantly enough to mention, as the last two scenes have been removed. You can jump to a particular section by entering a search for the // separators.

**Noted changes**:  
Scene 3: Kyōko & Corn  
Scene 9: Hisashiburi  
Scene 14: The Folder  
Scene 15: _Removed_  
Scene 16: _Removed_

--------------------  
**Second Chance:  
If I Never Knew You**  
By Princess Faux  
--------------------

Ren leaned forward and casually propped his chin on one hand.

"See this one?" The sandy-haired assistant tapped his pen impatiently against the hard plastic of the glowing monitor. "This is probably one of your best pictures. Clean shot; clear eyes. It's very striking--slightly provocative," the shy boy suggested with a grin as he unconsciously pushed thick-rimmed glasses against the bridge of his nose and laughed. "I don't care what you say. You're good--you're really good! You should think about modeling full time."

"Yea right," Ren retorted as he pushed away from the flimsy chair with surprising grace. "And give up the screen?--Never!"

From anyone else, these words could have been an insult to all photographers and photo-enthusiasts alike. Instead, they worked exactly to his desired effect, earning him admiring chuckles from a small audience of assistants and stage hands. Continuing his charade to the end, Ren bowed loftily to the boy, who merely rolled his eyes and failed to suppress a smile before getting back to work.

Never, indeed. Modeling was a trivial necessity for publicity. But acting? Ren shook his head and laughed at himself. "Is there anything else I need to do?" he asked as he peered over the shoulder of the young aspiring photographer.

The boy shook his head absentmindedly as he analyzed a new group of shots on the screen. "Nah. Jōji said you're good to go after the group sessions. You can take off anytime you want."

Ren let out an appreciative whistle as he watched the boy quickly sift through the batch of new images, diligently separating the rejects from the cream of the crop. Not wanting to distract him from his work, Ren quietly ducked under the edge of the canopy and headed in the direction of the clothing trailer. He had barely taken a few steps into the sun when the same assistant abruptly shouted after him,

"Don't forget to grab a lunch box!"

Ren waved his hand and declined as politely as possible. "It's fine, I'll grab a meal on the plane." I just... need to figure out how to get to the plane, he thought dryly as he unhappily peeled off the dark, heavy suit jacket from his body and draped it over one shoulder.

Tsuruga Ren, Japan's most popular bachelor for both acting and modeling, was sulking.

At six feet, five inches, he was one of Japan's tallest models, wildly famous for his strikingly good looks and charming personality. A single glance could unwittingly capture the heart of any bystander--even the simple act of shielding his eyes from the sun could make a grown woman faint or a secure man envious.

He couldn't be any more oblivious.

Ren had just spent the last three weeks in beautiful Hokkaido working on all sorts of promotions for his upcoming movie. Promotions meant anything from interviews, guest appearances, commercials, autograph signings, and--apparently--photo shoots for product placement. He wasn't complaining; they were necessities.

But he wasn't acting.

At least, he thought dryly, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. It was pretty rare that he got to do an outdoor shoot and it surprised him that the photos turned out so well. If anything, he had assumed that the outdoor lighting would make the beautiful scenery look hard and unforgiving against the screen. He was almost ashamed to admit that Jōji's legendary magic had more substance than myth: every shot and every frame made the hand-tailored suits look even more fantastic than the designer could ever imagine.

Ren shifted the jacket onto his other shoulder and tried his best to ignore the heat. Even for him, it had been a tough morning, changing in and out of multiple suits at breakneck speed--all while not breaking a sweat. He laughed. Only Tsuruga Ren could do that, he thought with a grin, distinguishing his celebrity façade from his true self.

But honestly, it was hot. What he wouldn't give for a decent pair of jeans and a regular faded tee...

Unfortunately, he had bigger things to worry about.

Yashiro Yukihito, his manager and assistant, had babbled off some incoherent excuse this morning before he left Ren on site. He hadn't seen or heard from Yashiro since--which automatically led him to assume that he was stranded without a ride to Hakodate or a plane ticket to Tokyo.

Ren climbed into his trailer and refrained from slamming the door behind him. Without bothering to lock the door, he started laboriously taking off his designer clothes and tossed them onto the miniature couch before he suddenly froze in mid-action. Ren flushed in embarrassment but burst out laughing when realized he had no idea where his clothes were.

Stifling the last of his chuckles, he shook his head and casually walked to the other side of the trailer. He was just glad that there were no windows--unless he wanted the entire staff to view his private strip show, that is. Rummaging through the clothing rack, he spotted his designer jeans on a hanger and promptly took it from its resting place. Without another thought, he pulled on his pants, re-racked the empty hanger, and continued rifling through the unfamiliar clothes. "Ok," he muttered under his breath as he looked for his shirt. "Gotcha." He took off the black baseball cap from the same hanger and absentmindedly curled the bill before settling it over his dark hair. Now what?

Oh, right. Cell phone. Yashiro. Plane. His stomach rumbled. Damn.

He sighed and flopped into the chair by the makeup table. Was the flight at one or two? He looked at his wrist, only to discover that he was also missing his watch. Running his eyes impatiently across the table, he found his personal belongings neatly packed in a small wicker basket: wristwatch, cell phone, wallet, keys and a chap stick. Systematically, he put his keys and chap stick in the front pocket, his wallet in his back pocket, strapped his watch to his wrist and flipped open his cell phone.

His stomach grumbled again. Ren groaned and let out a long sigh. He knew he should go outside and at least pick up a lunch box but... the thought of disturbing a closely knit group of friends and coworkers made his insides knot. The reality was that some people just had this unfortunate knack of choking or passing out whenever he wanted to join them. But on the other hand, if he didn't eat, Kyōko would just get mad at him--or worse: scold him for not taking care of himself.

A small smile crept onto his face as he calmly leaned back into the chair, rocking himself absentmindedly on its hind legs.

Three weeks was just too long. Aside from the occasional long distance call, he missed hearing her voice. He missed seeing her around the LME building, casually running into her on set, and disruptively colliding into her on assignment. It was simply frustrating. Every time he saw her in an ad or a cm, his breath caught in his chest and he suddenly couldn't think. He couldn't escape her--not even after purposefully running away, three weeks into Hokkaido.

There was no time, no reason, no excuse for him to start a relationship with her. He knew he had no intention of starting one, but every time he saw her and every time she looked at him, there was nothing he wanted more than to be with her.

Except, that simply wasn't true.

There was one thing he wanted more.

Ren absentmindedly rubbed a knuckle against his chin and blew out a puff of air.

At least Yashiro wasn't here to make snide comments about his face falling or his personality slipping.

He smiled to himself. It was almost embarrassing to admit that this was the real Ren--not just some façade of Tsuruga Ren but a truly heartbroken and heartsick Ren. What's worse was that he had no idea how he could want something so badly and not at all--how simply hearing her voice on the phone made him feel so calm and detached; heartbroken and crushed.

He couldn't be in a relationship with her.

But he needed to be near her.

No. What he needed was a little time and space to control his feelings, that's all. He just needed to reach his goal. And then...

And then.

He let out a slow breath of air.

He wanted to see her so much.

"Um, hello?"

Startled, Ren made a hasty grab for the table before he could crash out of his chair. Instead of gracefully regaining his composure, he toppled all of the cosmetics from the tabletop and sent his cell phone skittering across the floor in the process.

"Hello? Hello?"

It took him a second to realize the muffled voice was coming from his cell phone. Quickly, he snatched the phone off the ground and crushed it against his ear. "Hello?" he forced himself to answer calmly.

"Tsuruga-san? Is that you?"

"Mogami-san?" he asked incredulously. Was this more than just coincidence--

He heard her laugh on the other line. "So it is you! What took you so long to reply?"

Ren smiled warmly and sank down into the poor chair. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was on the phone. What are you calling me for?"

"Me? I didn't call you. You called me."

Ren blinked a few times. "Did I?" he asked slowly. He remembered opening his cell phone a number of times but he didn't remember calling her. Did he really? Ren cracked a smile but did his best to suppress a chuckle. "So I did," he answered easily.

"You're not prank-calling me, are you?" his smile widened as she gently teased him. "Where are you?"

"I'm still in Hokkaido. I'm supposed to get on a plane soon."

"I know! You're returning today."

To him, she sounded warm and affectionate, sweet and inviting. He answered her unasked question with a simple, "Yes." Inwardly, he couldn't stop laughing at himself. He couldn't stop smiling. He couldn't help it. Her voice soothed away his anxious thoughts about his ride, his plane, his work. He closed his eyes and pictured her tenderly cradling her phone against her ear, smiling softly as she talked to him. "Tell me about your day."

"Oh, there's not much going on. I'm about to leave school to go to work. I have to go to my part time job and then I have a couple of errands at LME." He heard a short sigh before she add, "Oh! There's another Love Me assignment--I'm actually kind of excited about it."

"Really? A new acting gig?"

"No, not yet. But... between school and acting classes, I've been a little busy anyway."

"Mogami-san."

"Yes?"

"Would you like to see me?"

His heart surged in his chest. Ren nearly bolted out of the chair as he felt his cheeks burn furiously and his blood pound hard in his ears. Would you like to have dinner 'with' me, he articulated aggressively in his mind, forcefully emphasizing each word as he reprimanded himself. It was nearly impossible trying to suppress the need to balk and stammer--to correct himself--it was too late! It was already done! He had asked the most ridiculous--

"--yes," he heard her say softly--why was she whispering?--he could barely--"I would love to."

"Good. I'll call you when I'm back in Tokyo. I'll see you then." He felt the earth move under him as he collapsed into his chair, slowly closing the cell phone in shock as he heaved a sigh of relief and willed his racing heart to stop.

Almost immediately, his phone rang, startling him into dropping it again. This time, he reflexively caught it in midair before it could shatter against the ground. With a small curse, he snapped open the phone and glanced at the screen. "Yashiro-san," he stated breathlessly, his voice mixed with relief and a little bit of something else.

"There's an extra car set on your key chain. Press the panic button. The plane ticket is in your wallet. Your flight is at one-thirty. Don't be late!"

And the line went dead. "Yashiro-san?"

Ren slowly sank back down into the chair for the second time today.

With the ease of a seasoned actor with little time to spare, he allowed himself only twenty seconds collect his composure before coolly checking his keys and wallet to confirm Yashiro's call and then leaving the trailer in the direction of the parking lot.

"Tsuruga-kun!"

Ren turned to see his photographer casually run up to him with his assistant hauling along some heavy luggage behind him. "Hey, Jōji!" he greeted respectfully. "What's up?"

The man took off his sunglasses and grinned in greeting. With little ceremony, he unburdened the large black garment bag from his assistant and thrust it onto Ren. "Listen, great job today. You did really well."

"What's this?" Ren asked, his expression precariously revealing his curiosity but masking his skepticism. He was about to unzip the bag but Jōji stopped him abruptly.

"It's a gift from our client. They liked how the set looked on you so they're giving it to you." Jōji grinned a wolfish smile, his eyes practically dancing with deviousness. "Just take it. It's tailored down to your toes, anyway."

Ren scoffed in surprise and then laughed heartily. "Are you kidding me? This is worth a small fortune, I think."

"Hey," the photographer answered with a shrug. "I don't care what you do with it. You deserve it. Sell it, keep it--just don't think of it as compensation. They want a walking billboard, not your token of affection. We both know what I mean."

Ren rolled his eyes and they both laughed. "Jōji," Ren said honestly. "It was an amazing experience working with you. We should do it again."

"Same to you, Tsuruga-kun, same to you," Jōji agreed generously while waving him away. With another grin, the photographer put back his sunglasses and headed back to the set.

Ren took another glance at his new garment bag and shook his head before he started on his hunt for Yashiro's promised car. Moments ago, he had been obsessed with determination not to find the car with the aid of its panic button, but suddenly, it didn't matter at all.

He was going home.

---------- // ----------

Takarada Lory picked up a new glass of wine with one hand and shuffled around some papers with a baton in the other. It wasn't the true purpose of a conducting baton, but it would do for now. He gingerly raised the glass to his nose, appreciated its fine scent, and set it down untested.

To his left, his personal secretary almost rolled her eyes. There were some days she really hated working for this man. He was devious, conniving, mischievous, cunning, obnoxious, pompous, borderline deceitful, arrogant, bossy, demanding, flamboyant, meddlesome and preposterous--among other things. But he was also kind, discerning, gentle and giving.

It didn't seem right that the latter should outweigh the former.

When it came to analyzing the founder and president of LME, one had to ignore certain aspects and grasp firmly onto others. For instance, one had to ignore the fact that he seemed like a lecherous villain who liked to meddle in the affairs of young people. And since his daily cosplaying habits made it difficult for anyone to take him seriously, one also had to ignore his ostentatious displays of wealth and grandeur every time he decided to take on a new persona. Only after putting aside these two 'characteristics' could one finally understand that Takarada Lory was, indeed, the only man capable of leading and revolutionizing the LME Agency.

Despite knowing all of this fully well, Nakajima Shiori wanted to hurl herself out a window. After inconspicuously compiling a list of questionable events from past two months, Shiori was horrified to find herself in the middle of another Takarada conspiracy. Today was guaranteed to be one of those 'hated' days. After months of planning and preparation, she knew the time had finally come to put Takarada's plan into action. She found herself dreading it.

The problem was that Takarada really was kind, discerning, gentle and giving.

Shiori could easily forget about all of his flaws, but these four attributes were enough to make her cower in fear. She had been with him long enough to know how much he loved this agency and its people more than anything. Moreover, she had seen the lengths that Takarada would go through in order to do what he thought was good and just.

Simply put: he always got what he wanted.

Shiori ignored Takarada as he let out a cry of joy and stabbed his baton through a sheet of paper. Instead of reacting to his obvious mirth, she quickly snatched the remaining sheets of paper and organized them into category, date, and measure of importance. While Lory happily floated over to the conference table, waving his sheet of paper with the baton and swinging around his wine glass in his other hand, she yanked the conference phone off his table and marched over to him. "Shachō-san!" she demanded impertinently, commanding his attention.

The tall, dark-haired man waved at her as he took a long swig from his wine glass. "Nakajima-san!" he sighed endearingly as he slid into one of the chairs. Shiori swallowed a sigh of frustration and firmly slammed the phone onto the large western table. She wanted to take Takarada's penguin suit and shove it down his throat. "Hey, hey," he said eagerly. "Do you still remember Yoki-chan's number?"

This time, she really did sigh as she grudgingly reached over to punch in the number for him. Of course she remembered; she had been calling this number at least five times a day for the past two weeks. She started dialing but abruptly stopped before punching in the last digit. "Say, Shachō-san," she said innocently, as she set down the receiver as inconspicuously as possible. "Would you like to talk to Muranaka-san?" She gave him her sweetest smile and as he started to squirm in his seat.

"Say, Nakajima--" Takarada started to say.

Shiori knew exactly what he was planning to do and she was more than fed up over his latest scheme. By the look of things, he thought he was the head of a masterful, orchestrated plan. What would make her think that, you ask? Why else, of course, was he dressed up as a maestro of all things? She could only hope that the hordes of men crawling in and out of the room, removing selected pieces of furniture, weren't actually making room for a real orchestra! She pursed her lips and planted a free hand on her hip. "Yes Shachō-san?" she grated impatiently through her teeth.

Takarada smiled faintly, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he reached for the papers in her arms. "Is there... anything you would like me to sign today?" He quickly snatched back his arm as Shiori slammed down the entire pile of sorted documents.

"Why yes, Shachō-san, I think there is," she replied slowly and deliberately, in the same menacing tone.

He managed another weak smile. "Why... I would... be... delighted to--"

Shiori slammed down a pen over the toppling tower of papers. "Why yes, Shachō-san, I'm sure you would be."

Shiori watched with some satisfaction as he swallowed and hesitantly picked up the pen. There she stood for the next half an hour, watching like a hawk as he skimmed over the papers and signed his name at the end of each document. Every now and then, she would interrupt him with a specific note or comment on a peculiar item that she thought he overlooked. When he finally reached the last page he looked up at her and she glared back. He started to write his signature when his eyes suddenly narrowed on her. Almost immediately, she started to imagine an unrealistically large drop of sweat sliding down the back of her neck as she attempted to swallow her fears.

"Nakajima-san," Takarada said quietly.

Shiori froze momentarily. Without another word, she hastily grabbed the phone and started stabbing the digits of Muranaka Yokiko's number. For every number she dialed, she was rewarded with another calligraphic stroke, and another. By the end of it, she felt as if she had just been in a race where every furiously punched in number was met hand in hand with an equal and opposing scrawl. As the phone began to ring, Takarada calmly put down the pen and graciously handed over the pile of documents to Shiori. Shiori swallowed again before she bowed humbly, excusing herself from his presence.

"Please take the men with you."

Shiori nodded and caught the attention of the men around her. As she expected, they had already finished their task. Suddenly, the previously Japanese-styled office had been transformed into a Parisian banquet hall for four. His windows now featured luxurious silks, accented with velvet fabrics and elegant valances. The walls were sparsely covered by large black and white pictures, sporting worn but lovely black-coated frames. Each frame was separated by a quaint bistro table placed along the wall, decorated by a vase of flowers. They even managed to install several wall sconces with silk shades, matching the style of a large but intricate chandelier placed in the middle of the room. The crystal chandelier hung a scant three feet from a beautifully stained dining table with carved legs and matching chairs.

Shiori refused to allow her face to betray her astonishment as she breathlessly ushered the men out of the room and closed the doors behind her.

If today was indeed "Takarada's big day," and if he was truly determined to completely ignore paperwork for the next two weeks--then so be it.

Just as long as she was left out of it.

---------- // ----------

Mogami Kyōko jumped off her bike and meticulously locked it to the rack hidden behind Darumaya. She had less than half an hour to change out of her uniform and get back to the studio before they started filming tomorrow's episode. Normally, she would've gone straight to the studio from her high school but she had been too rushed to pack another set of clothes this morning. She hadn't even planned on doing anything but studying tonight and now she had plans to go to dinner with the most talented actor she had ever had the pleasure of meeting.

Quickly, she ran to the front of the store and excused herself through a small crowd of people. "Taishō! Okami-san!" She flashed quick smile at the busy couple as she headed for the stairs, calling over her shoulder, "Tadaima!" Taishō greeted her with his usual stoic features and waved her out of the way. Okami-san, on the other hand, smiled warmly and invited her in.

"Okaerinasai, Kyōko-chan. What are you doing back so early?"

Kyōko shook her head and answered breathlessly, "I just needed to grab some stuff. I'm coming home late, so don't wait up!" Within seconds, she tore into her room and slapped on the lights. She needed something casual but airy, attractive but not classy. In short, she needed to look like she wasn't a Love Me member. She snatched a white summer's dress off a hanger and shoved it into her satchel. That would do for dinner. But for now, she had to put on something to wear under her chicken costume. Within moments, she had flung on a pair of jeans under her uniform, stripped off her school blouse and struggled into a close-fitting tank top. Finally, she unbuttoned her skirt, strapped it to a hanger, and randomly grabbed a knit sweater.

She twisted around to grab her bag off the ground and collided into her desk. She had to find her English novel, her kanji workbook, and a stack of scripts and bring them to the set to study. There was also something else but she didn't--

Corn.

Suddenly, the room spun to a halt. Kyōko held her breath and slowly turned away from her desk, kneeling before the small night stand next to her unmade futon. Carefully, but with purpose, she pulled out the second drawer and stared at a small coin purse, neatly stacked on top of her miscellaneous belongings. The tiny purse was made of thin plaid cloth--the only thing she fancied capable of protecting her from its contents. Corn, she thought desperately, as if the small little gem she knew that was inside of the purse could hear her.

I need you.

Her fingers clutched to the front panel of the drawer as she contemplated whether or not to take it out of its protective casing. She slowly lowered her head, pressed her nose against the drawer, bit her lip and held back a sniffle.

Inwardly, she impatiently scolded herself. There wasn't any time for this nonsense. If she really wanted to do an emotional dump, do it quickly--or wait.

During these times, she instantly regretted loaning her precious Corn to Tsuruga-san. Every time she reached for it, she was overwhelmed by his image, pressing his lips against its innocent, shiny surface. Her ears flushed pink. Corn, Corn, Corn, her mind rambled heedlessly.

She sighed and gently picked up the coin purse, gingerly holding it between both hands.

Enough.

Holding her breath still, she wrapped her hands around the covered stone and raised her hands to her chest.

Enough.

There was no time to cry.

She placed Corn back into the drawer and forced herself up from the ground, still feeling heavy with an emotional burden. Ignoring her nagging instincts, Kyōko grabbed her things and regretfully rushed out the door.

Clutching her belongings in her hands, Kyōko pushed against the metal bars of the restaurant doors and escaped outside. As the cool air of Darumaya cascaded down her back, only to be quickly engulfed by the pulsing heat of the day, Kyōko clumsily lifted the hand gripping her sweater to her head to shield her eyes from the bright light.

That's right, she told herself grimly, as she pulled herself together. Shoving the sweater into her school bag, she forced herself to hold her head high.

With a swallow and a confident grin, she dared the world to stand in her way.

That's right, she thought determinedly.

Today is just another day.

---------- // ----------

Muranaka Yokiko looked at herself in the mirror as she attempted to tame her auburn locks of hair. Frustrated, she grabbed some bobby pins off the vanity table and haphazardly pulled the locks away from her eyes. The rest of her hair fell softly from her hands, the loose curls framing her heart-shaped face. She tossed her head from side to side, finally satisfied that her hair would stay in place. Not bad for a mangaka. Not bad at all, she smirked.

Taking one last glance in the mirror, she picked up her shoulder bag and walked outside to meet Lory in his car. Normally, she would've been more than happy to take the bus or a taxi but unfortunately, Lory had insisted on picking her up. Yokiko sighed and locked the door behind her. Saying 'no' to Takarada Lory was no small feat. In the end, she conceded to his wishes, only on the condition that his chauffeur drive a normal car and that Lory must remain in the car at all times.

Well, he stayed true to his word--sort of. As per agreement, there was a small black sedan parked at the end of the alleyway. It was normal except for the tacky glittering decal screaming in bright neon colors that it was the property of "Lory's Majesty Entertainment." And as for staying in the car... he was mostly in the car... as much as he could be with the window rolled down and his head popping out like a giddy stray dog.

Yokiko gave him an exasperated smile. Lory grinned and called out, "Yoki-chan, hurry! Shingai-kun is waiting!" He opened the door for her and slid into the other seat. Yokiko easily got into the car and gently closed the door behind her.

"Thank you, Takarada-kun." As the chauffeur started towards the LME building, she gave him a fair look, indicating that he really hadn't needed to come pick her up.

"It's nothing. I enjoyed it." Lory looked her over. Like usual, she had managed to pull her untamable hair away from her eyes, showing off her fair complexion and striking eyes. If she hadn't insisted on living her life in total disarray, completely devoted to creating drama and hopelessly obsessed with realizing her art, he would've insisted that she should've lived the normal life of a model for LME.

As if she knew exactly what he was thinking, Yokiko interrupted his thoughts: "Of course you enjoy the luxurious life of a president. That's why you live it. And I enjoy the hectic life of a small and relatively well-known mangaka. So stop treating me differently than everyone else."

"I am treating you like everyone else," Lory objected.

"No," she cut in. "You're treating me like a childhood friend that only turned to you when she desperately needed the help of a wealthy and influential friend."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Lory just smiled sweetly at her. "You know," he started. "I'm not one that keeps mentioning how much of a favor this is."

"I know. I keep reminding myself so that you don't forget."

"You take me too lightly."

"On the contrary, I take you too seriously," Yokiko retorted with a smirk. "I know that as soon as this is done, you'll wave it away as another success and treat it as though I don't owe you anything--but in reality, I already owe you everything."

He turned to catch her eye and said in his most sincere voice, "This is a good business opportunity for me, Yokiko-chan. As far as personal relationships go, ours is very important, but I would never invest in anything that I didn't believe in."

Yokiko ruefully fingered her gray skirt. "I told you, the drama didn't do very well overseas. It might not do very well here."

Lory absentmindedly moved her hand away from her skirt, preventing her from making any unnecessary wrinkles in the pretty cloth, and ignored the constant refrain he had heard for the past nine months. "Japan is notorious for remaking films and dramas. There is always someone who believes that they can do it better, so they do. It won't be any different for 'Second Chance'."

She was silent for a minute. Then she asked softly, "And you're sure that Director Shingai is one of them? We already know that he has no kind words to say about the overseas translation. And, of course, he's a film director, not a drama director. Isn't there anyone else?"

He smiled at her before looking out the window as they reached his pride and joy. "When you see him today, you'll be surprised at how passionate he is about his work. His reputation precedes him as a man obsessed with details and infamous for being difficult. This is exactly the kind of man we want to work on 'Second Chance.' He is the only man I want to work on 'Second Chance'."

"And if Director Shingai agrees to this, how much control will I have in the end?"

Lory gave her a small smile that didn't comfort her in the least. "Very little."

Yokiko looked away from him, trying to mask her discomfort and resignation. It wasn't like his answer was completely unexpected. But knowing it, and hearing it...

He sighed and touched her lightly on the hand. "That's why you must tell me everything you hope for," he said softly. "Because only I can give it to you."

---------- // ----------

Yashiro Yukihito hesitantly put his hand on the door handle. On second thought, he should knock again--just for good measure. He gently tapped on the door, paused, and furiously hammered his fist against it.

Ok.

Clear.

He mustered up his confidence, firmly grasped the handle and flung the door open.

"Hello?" he called out meekly.

The room was empty. Of people, at least. Everywhere, props, costumes, make-up, and general belongings were scattered on the ground, littered across the tables and propped against chairs. Earlier, Yukihito was slightly surprised that Kyōko had insisted on meeting him in a dressing room; well, that's what he got for assuming that she had her own room. It was obviously clear that this was more of a general use area than any actress' private dressing room.

He sighed as he eyed the messy room. This... was going to make things a little more complicated.

Slowly, Yukihito began to walk the circumference of the room, poking around for some hint of her belongings. How much time did he actually have, anyway? For whatever reason, she wouldn't allow him to see her on stage, despite his many protests. He knew that the studio was currently taping a variety show--maybe she was a guest star and she was too embarrassed to tell him?--well, it didn't matter. If she was a guest, he could always find the taping later and privately cheer her on.

He grinned.

He could also discreetly mention it to Ren.

Yukihito halted in front of a dressing table. This one was almost completely bare of cosmetics or props. In fact, the only reason why it stood out was because there was simply nothing there except for a medium-sized school bag neatly placed on top of a chair. It was neat, orderly, and completely out of the ordinary. Kind of like Kyōko.

Despite knowing that there was no one there, he peered over each shoulder just to be absolutely sure. Then, after taking in a deep breath, he pulled up the school bag and started to rummage through its contents. He found nothing out of the ordinary. First, he pulled out a white piece of cloth and saw a couple of books, a small pencil bag, a cell phone. Setting aside the dress, he picked up the cell and recognized it immediately. He let out a deep sigh of relief and continued to search through her belongings. In another pocket, he found five packets of paper--scripts--two thin, two medium-sized, and one unusually thick. If he picked the large one, it would be too noticeable but a smaller one might not be noticeable enough. It only took a second or two to make his decision but even the simple act of pocketing the script seemed to take one second too long.

He set his briefcase on the table and quickly inserted the script inconspicuously among his own documents, ignoring his poor pounding heart. Snapping the case shut, he set his belongings aside and looked around the table. Cell phone. Dress. Which went first? He picked up the dress and started to fold it up neatly--no, no, no! He hadn't found it folded--don't be silly! He rumpled the dress together, tossed it in, and then realized he forgot about her cell phone. He quickly made a grab for the phone and thrust it towards the bottom of bag just as the door to the dressing room swung open.

Yukihito raised his head and froze as he found himself staring eye to eye with Kyōko, his hand still lodged deep within her school bag. Simultaneously, their eyes seemed to widen ever so slightly as Kyōko dropped a large, black garbage bag onto the ground. Yukihito felt a small sweat drop slide down the back of his neck but his body wouldn't respond--well, he was pretty sure his heart just dropped off the planet but--"Yashiro-san!" Kyōko exclaimed in surprise. He flinched. "I'm not done packing so don't take it yet!" She barged through the doorway and took his hand out of the bag for him. She shook her head at him and sighed. "Honestly, you can be so kind sometimes."

He smiled faintly and slowly stepped away from her makeup table. "What's that, Kyōko-chan?" Yukihito asked without skipping a beat. He headed toward the doorway, eyeing the large peculiar beak sticking out of the garbage bag. Nearly mesmerized, he started to reach for it but suddenly found himself pummeled into a wall before he could blink.

"It-it-it's nothing!" Kyoko smiled at him brightly but he could sense a small threatening aura around her. Yukihito brushed himself off, ignored the throbbing pain in his back and watched slack-jawed as she brutally chucked the bag into a corner already overflowing with costumes. "Are you ready to go?" she asked innocently, as if nothing just happened.

"Uh... yes." He was more than willing to forget the last ten minutes. With a forced smile, he picked up her bag and handed it to her before picking up his own belongings. "Shall we?" he asked, lifting his arm in the direction of the door.

"Yes. Let's," she agreed with a smile. She put away her sweater while Yukihito let out a quiet chuckle. Despite her overwhelming eccentricity, he really did miss her.

---------- // ----------

Shingai Seiji tapped his finger impatiently against the arm of his chair, trying to absorb the information Lory had just told him. "You... did what?" he asked, his voice low.

Lory poured wine into Seiji's glass and repeated his last statement. "I sent this script to a select few actors and actresses... with your name on it." He poured himself a glass and put the wine back into its ice bucket.

For the first time in years, Seiji felt his mind go blank. "How could you do this--why would you do this to me?" he asked incredulously. "They might not have the common sense to realize that I would never pick this script much less direct this travesty--"

Yokiko visibly flinched at Seiji's heartless regard for her script, drawing the attention of the tall man that sat beside her.

Lory patiently made Yokiko stop worrying her skirt for the fourth time this evening and almost sighed. He was supposed to be the dramatic one, not Seiji. And the way that Seiji emphasized every other word was starting to get just a little irritating. "Shingai-kun," he started, with as much patience as he could muster. "I am not asking you to direct this drama. I'm just simply asking for a rewrite."

Seiji found himself drinking an entire glass of wine before he realized he had one. "You mean to tell me that you're abusing my name to get actors for this drama only to have me rewrite it so that someone else could direct it?"

Lory smiled.

"You've got to be kidding." Seiji looked horrified as Lory's facial expression never changed. "Shachō-san, I'm a film director for heaven's sake! I don't write screenplays--"

"You used to," Lory replied simply.

"--for dramas?--"

"Isn't that how you got started in this business, Shingai-kun?"

Seiji blanched and straightened out his white suit jacket nervously, ignoring the unnaturally stifling heat of the room. He was quickly running out of excuses. Oh my god, oh my god... this is not happening to me--

When was the last time he had been at the center of a Takarada ploy? Was it three years ago? Four? How long has he put up with LME and its ridiculous president? Sure, he loved this company--whenever Lory was not playing with his life and whenever he wasn't forced to rehabilitate one of Lory's children.

Come to think of it, Seiji was always doing things like that. Come to think of it, why did he never say no?

Seiji risked a glance at Lory who was looking at him expectantly and blanched again.

Because who in their right mind would refuse to do anything for this crazy man? From his tailored penguin suit to his Parisian dining hall... If the years of intensive labor for this man taught him anything, it was that Lory's carefully orchestrated plan went much further than Seiji's ability to rewrite this god-forsaken drama.

Seiji started to feel the effects of the alcohol on him as his mind raced up and down an empty corridor, desperately looking for a way out.

"Shingai-kun," Lory said softly.

Seiji snapped to attention.

"This is not a negotiation."

Suddenly, Seiji's raging mind came to a halt as he heard the distinct sounds of a metal cage rushing down on him.

Lory looked at the younger man, who slumped in clear resignation.

"I don't want to spend the next six months writing a screenplay," Seiji whispered quietly.

Lory smiled kindly, pouring Seiji another glass of wine. "You've been stuck for a year. Without anything to work on, you've been unhappy and frustrated." He pushed the glass toward Seiji. "Come now, it's time to do something."

Seiji unbuttoned his suit jacket and leaned forward on his knees, allowing a fresh gust of air to relieve his mood. "Yes," he agreed unhappily.

---------- // ----------

Ren pulled his cap over his eyes. There was another mole in the department. Someone had leaked onto the Internet that he was supposed to arrive at four-thirty--which is why Yukihito warned him the night before to finish early to take another plane. Unfortunately, that didn't keep some of his more devoted fans from lining up an hour in advance to see his return to Tokyo. Ren smiled inwardly. He would much rather they line up for his movies.

Shouldering his new garment bag, he lifted a newspaper with his free hand and pretended to read the article closely. Getting through the airport was easy but standing stuck on a curb was the worst part of waiting for Yashiro to pick him up.

He almost gave a sigh of relief as Yukihito pulled up in front of the pick-up curb. Ren quickly opened the back seat, tossed in the garment bag and climbed into the front seat. "Hey, thanks." He pulled off his cap and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You're welcome," Yukihito answered automatically as he pulled away from the curb. "How was the shoot?"

"It went well. I even came back with trophies." Ren pointed to the backseat and laughed. "I don't even know if I'll ever wear them."

Yukihito smiled and shrugged. "You'll always have to wear something," he offered helpfully. "If they're really that fancy, there's tons of award ceremonies, benefits, concerts, charity events--"

"Ok, ok, I get the point. Now I just have to find an interesting date or a nice escort for once." As soon as he said it, he immediately regretted it.

"Well, there's always--"

"Let's," he cut in, "not go there."

Yukihito smirked and shut his mouth. Now, how to subtly mention...

"Hey, what's this?" Ren picked up a script from between his feet.

Bingo. Yukihito shrugged again continued leisurely driving towards LME. "Oh that? I just dropped off Kyōko-chan at LME. I guess she must have left it behind."

"Oh?" Ren glanced over the cover of the packet, carefully noting the title and director listed at the bottom. Where have I seen this... he wondered to himself. "Yashiro-san, don't I have the same script?"

Yukihito paused momentarily. Do you? he echoed, perplexed.

"Do you have my stuff?"

"Yes..." he replied slowly. "It's in the back."

Ren reached over into the back of the car and pulled his backpack to the front. From it, he pulled out a heavy stack of papers--some notes, binders, mostly scripts. Putting back his miscellaneous documents and binders, he sifted through the pile until he picked up his own copy of "Second Chance." He paused to look at Kyōko's copy. "Are you sure this is hers?" he murmured.

Yukihito glanced anxiously at Ren through the corner of his eye. "Sure, why?"

He shook his head. "No, it's nothing." Putting his copy with the rest of the scripts in his lap, he started through Kyōko's edition. To his surprise, the manuscript was covered in highlights, pen markings, and scribbles all over the margins. He ignored these and skimmed over the character lines, trying to get a feel for the story and quality of the script. If he had a copy of this script, didn't that mean someone wanted him to try out for a part in this--he flipped back to the first few pages--drama?

It was actually a translated copy of an overseas' daytime show. It didn't seem very long--maybe an excerpt? He paused; his copy felt a lot heavier when he picked it up. Tucking Kyōko's copy under his arm, he picked up his copy again.

He was right; it was much longer. Surprised again, he picked up another script for "Second Chance" under the first one. Putting that aside, he spent the next few minutes silently speed-reading through the first manuscript while Yukihito nervously continued driving towards LME.

He didn't know exactly what was going through Ren's head but he did know that Ren was completely engrossed in the script. Yukihito couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going on. Evidently, they unknowingly had the same script. So what? It had been months and months since they last worked together--maybe his random selection was a godsend after all, Yukihito thought smugly.

"This is awful," Ren muttered.

Yukihito blanched.

"I mean, it's cliché," he amended, slapping the script with one hand. "Even if this is a translation--" Ren continued his tirade as he picked up the second copy, glancing purposefully at the cover. "Director Shingai?" he muttered skeptically before speeding through the second one.

Yukihito risked a glance in Ren's direction. If it was so awful, why was he still reading it? "Uh, Ren?" Yukihito started, hesitantly. "We're almost there."

Ren looked up in surprise and turned to Yukihito to say something but stopped when Yukihito's jaw dropped uncharacteristically. "What?" Ren asked. Yukihito stared in silence. "What!"

"Ren," he spluttered before turning away. He quickly reached up and snapped open the passenger seat's vanity mirror. "Your face, Ren--your face!"

Ren resignedly sighed and slammed the mirror shut before he buried his face in the script. "Let's just park in the structure. I'll walk in with you," he mumbled.

---------- // ----------

Lory had his assistant bring in several boxes and place them on the table. "Yoki-chan and I put together some materials to make this easier on you. In this set, I've given you a copy of her manga series thus far." He opened another box and continued, "I don't know if you'll want to compare to the overseas version, but we've also included the video tapes, translated versions of their screenplay, director's notes--everything we paid for."

Lory watched determinedly as Seiji reluctantly got up to look through the boxes.

"I'd rather not use any of that." Seiji looked at Yokiko and told her honestly, "I'd rather work as if this was the first and only adaptation of your manga. As you've mentioned, I know that you're disappointed that the series did not do very well overseas. I will do my best to create what I perceive as a good screenplay for a good drama, but that means that I must have full control over the writing process and content of the drama."

Yokiko clutched a handful of skirt in her fist. Lory had warned her of this but she was still apprehensive over this more than anything. She felt Lory put a hand on her shoulder and forced herself to relax. "Yes," she answered firmly.

Seiji lifted his eyes from the materials, subtly measuring her determination.

"If there's anything you need, or if you have any questions, please feel free to contact me. In this box," she indicated, standing up to remove the lid. "I've also included my beginning character sketches, a copy of my personal notes for what I had hoped to achieve, as well as some notes to the final outcome of the manga." She swallowed and met him eye to eye. "It is my hope that you will create a faithful adaptation for my sake, as well as the sake of my fans, but I will understand if you choose to deviate from the canon."

Lory raised an eyebrow, slightly impressed that Yokiko had said even that much. He grinned satisfactorily as Seiji bowed humbly to Yokiko. "This is wonderful!" Lory exclaimed unabashedly. "There's just one last thing I have for you," now that the atmosphere seemed less tense. "It's an assistant."

"A what?" Seiji asked, clearly not impressed. "I have one--I have multiple." He picked up the first volume of the manga and casually analyzed the front cover.

"Of course you do," Lory said condescendingly. "But do you have this one?" he taunted, slightly obnoxiously. "As a prized member of my favorite section, she'll be very helpful to you--I promise." Lory leaned forward and buzzed his secretary. "Nakajima-kun, could you please bring her in?" Lory was starting to get butterflies in his stomach. He almost didn't believe that he got Seiji to agree so quickly, but now, he was more than thrilled to be able to execute stage two of his ingenious plan--a.k.a. kill nine birds with one stone! Lory leaned forward and continued to explain excitedly, "Kotonami-kun has an amazing ability to recall lines and her strict policy of--"

Lory stopped in mid-sentence as Mogami Kyōko walked through the door, fully dressed his very own design: the bright pink Love Me uniform.

Seiji absentmindedly dropped the manga back into its box. "Mogami-san," he exclaimed in surprise.

Kyōko couldn't help but flash one of her brightest smiles. Director Shingai looked exactly as she remembered him. The white suit over his dark blue dress shirt almost defined him as the clear-cut professional she met a year ago. She walked forward and humbly bowed to him in greeting. "Ohayō gozaimasu, Shingai-san," she answered happily. "How are you?"

"I'm doing... just fine," he said in bewilderment. She looked... almost exactly the same. He remembered her with short honey-brown hair--now a bit longer--but he just couldn't forget the image of a passionate young lady with long, black hair, dressed as the daughter of an old and established Japanese family. And despite wearing that ridiculous uniform, he marveled at how she continued to carry herself with such dignity. He let out the breath of air he didn't know he was holding and smiled. "Did you know I was working on this?"

Lory's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them while Yokiko stepped forward to place a hand on his arm. Lory glanced quickly at Yokiko, who already seemed to know what he was thinking. "Mogami-kun," Lory said abruptly. "What are you doing here?"

Kyōko directed her attention to Lory and Yokiko and bowed to them respectfully. "Shachō-san, Muranaka-san, it's a pleasure to meet you." Straightening up, she continued, "Moko-san couldn't be here today so she asked if I would be able to meet with you instead. Actually," she hesitated and looked from one person to the next. "When I saw that Director Shingai was her main contact, I wanted to be able to personally assist him in her place." She bashfully laughed as she looked at Seiji again. "If you'll have me, of course."

Seiji coughed into his fist, making a move to cover his own blush and risked a glance at Lory instead. "I'd be delighted to have you," he answered immediately. "If you don't mind, Shachō-san."

Lory felt an actual bead of sweat roll down the back of his head. "I--"

"I think that's absolutely wonderful," Yokiko jumped in, preventing Lory from putting a foot in his mouth. It was wonderful that Shingai-san actually looked excited to work on her drama. She glared quickly in Lory's direction before smiling demurely at Kyōko and Seiji. They blinked at her quick change in expression. "Well, I think we have everything settled." She briskly motioned the two out the doors, leaving Lory gaping behind her.

Seiji shrugged at Kyōko, who was trying to hold in her laughter. Yokiko quickly glanced back at Lory and grinned mischievously before accompanying them outside.

Once away from Lory's eyes, Yokiko turned to Seiji and bowed deeply, taking him by surprise once again. She straightened and admitted with a smile, "I'm glad that you've accepted our proposition. I was worried that you wouldn't and I didn't know if I could trust you."

Seiji felt his ears turn pink. Admiring her honesty, he blew out a breath of air and started to apologize for his difficult attitude but she stopped him early, saying,

"Shingai-san, he has the fullest confidence in you--" she faltered, distracted by Kyōko's darting glances between her and Seiji. Amused, she laughed and smiled kindly at Kyōko before subtly returning her attention to Seiji. Yokiko looked at him confidently and said, "So I will, too."

Seiji smiled back at her, bowed humbly, and answered simply, "Thank you." Taking this as a subtle dismissal, Seiji turned to Kyōko and motioned for her to follow him.

After watching the two of them leave, Yokiko finally stepped back into the office where Lory was waiting for her with a flute of champagne. Lory gave her a puzzled smile and handed her a glass. She made a face before accepting it and said, "That went better than expected."

Lory just stood there quietly and drank from his glass.

She sighed and leaned on his desk next to him. "Takarada-kun, it'll be fine. If Shingai-san acts like how you said he would, then regardless of whether it's Mogami-san or Kotonami-san, he'll still direct it in the end."

"I'm not so sure about that," Lory murmured. There was a reason why he wanted Kotonami-kun to be his assistant.

"Even if Kotonami-san looks a lot like Aika, and Mogami-san doesn't," Yokiko started thoughtfully, "I'm sure there will be other things to inspire him." She looked at Lory.

Lory put on a pout but she could sense that he was honestly and completely devastated that things hadn't gone according to his plan.

"Takarada-kun," she said softly, stirring his attention. "You have to trust him."

Lory reluctantly smiled, noting the ironic turn of events. "I do."

---------- // ----------

After a short meeting with Shingai-san, Kyōko climbed into the elevator to head back to Love Me headquarters--as she was in the habit of calling it--and looked forward to changing out of her ridiculous uniform. As she tapped at the button for the sixth floor, she was abruptly forced to see her reflection decked in all of her Love Me glory. Kyōko rolled her eyes and remembered the first time she had dinner with Tsuruga-san. They had unconsciously garnered so much unwanted attention--what was a celebrity doing with a teenager in an ugly work uniform anyway? she mimicked to herself as she got off the elevator.

And stopped.

Kyōko watched as he ran his hand through his hair, his face frowning in concentration.

Three weeks had gone by so fast that it seemed almost silly how his absence had left such a deep impact on her.

Ren, Ren, Ren.

She blushed lightly. No, she would never dare to call him that. She couldn't even call him "Tsuruga-kun" yet, much less that.

After a second, she snapped herself out of her reverie. Stop being a stalker. Go say hi.

But just seeing him was like letting a magical spell overwhelm her senses, healing her like a soothing balm. She could feel the burden on her heart melt away from her skin, finally allowing her to breathe again.

Casually, he looked up and made eye contact with her.

She drew in a sharp breath and stilled her heart. Smile, she told herself.

He smiled.

She caught her breath.

Ren slowly rose from his seat and tucked the script under his arm. She stood less than ten feet away, but she seemed completely at ease. He smiled ruefully. What would he give for her to feel the way she made him feel? He had expected his heart to race at the first sight of her, like it did whenever he thought of her. Instead, even time seemed to slow down. His heart drummed steadily, a loud, heavy rhythm in his ears.

He swallowed nervously.

What should he say? What would he say? That he missed her? That he couldn't stand being away from her? That he wanted to be with her?--

"Mogami-san," he said softly, her name escaping his lips before he could stop himself. He held his breath as she stirred to attention.

There was a million things he wanted to tell her. But... for now, for now he could only smile.

Now was not the time.

Finally, as if the words were there all along, he softly said,

"Hisashiburi... desu ne."

It said everything he needed to say.

It might not have said it clearly, but it said it honestly: that he hadn't seen her in a long time, that he felt her absence, and that he was glad to see her again.

Yes.

It had been a very long time.

She nodded and blinked back tears she didn't know she had. Snapping out of his spell, she walked forward to receive him. "What are you doing here? I thought I was going to meet you downstairs--I haven't even changed yet."

Ren chuckled, a deep, warm, inviting sound. What a pair they made. Him, in his rich designer jacket, and Kyōko, in her gaudy pink uniform. It was hard to tell who stood out more. "Are you tired?" he asked, ignoring all of her questions. She shook her head and he continued, "I was thinking of making dinner at my place. Is that ok?"

"Do you cook?" she asked pointedly, recalling how his pans looked barely used.

"I cook," he said disdainfully.

She burst out laughing and he looked away sheepishly. "Hai, hai." She started for the Love Me room. "Let me get my stuff. Do you have ingredients or do we need to go shopping?"

"Yashiro-san loaded up my fridge for me before I even got back," Ren admitted, following her to the door. "I think I have everything we'll ever need--and then some."

"Sounds good to me." She picked up her belongings and turned off the lights. Before leaving the room, she looked up at him and smiled. "I'll cook."

---------- // ----------

Kyōko automatically reached for the remote control and turned off the television set.

Ren turned in surprise and opened his mouth to speak.

Instead, he only stared as she clutched the remote tightly in her hands, trembling despite the warmth of the evening. Was it fear? Or anger? He awkwardly shifted as his heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

Seeing his reaction, she hastily dropped the remote, jumping in surprise as it rattled noisily against the table, hitting the glass and ricocheting onto the ground. "I'm sorry," she apologized automatically, making a dive for the remote.

"Mogami-san, stop," he said quietly, prying the remote from her hands. With a muffled cry, she yanked her hand away from his touch, flinging the remote against the television. Ren flinched as he fell against the ground.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Kyōko apologized again as she thought frantically, What's wrong with me? She looked horrified as Ren unhappily pulled himself up. "I--"

"It's ok." It was not ok. Ren couldn't stop his heart from pounding in his chest or his hands from wanting to touch her or his lips from wanting to comfort her. "Mogami-san, please calm down."

"I know. I'm sorry," she groaned miserably. "I don't know what's wrong with me." Kyōko wrapped her arms around her head and pounded her forehead against the glass table, rattling it again.

Ren's gaped at her. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

This, he was familiar with. This, he could handle.

"Mogami-san," he sighed. "Stop it."

Kyōko stopped and stared through the glass, suddenly obsessed with analyzing his rug. Within seconds, she abruptly sat up, startling him yet again. "It's not like I haven't seen it before," she informed him shortly. "It's not like it has anything to do with me."

He shook his head in confusion.

"And it's not like it means anything."

He nodded?

She groaned again and slammed her head down. Of course it meant something. It's always meant something. Who was she trying to fool?

Kyōko wanted to kick her feet in anger and misery and frustration. She should've poured out all of her emotions to Corn when she had the chance. She shouldn't have let all of those negative emotions boil inside of her.

And she certainly should not have allowed Tsuruga-san to see any of it.

Kyōko snapped up again and looked at him tearfully--partially from her throbbing head but mostly out of shame--and met his sympathetic but confused eyes...

And sighed.

This was the last thing she wanted to do: expose Tsuruga-san to any part of her petty scheme for revenge. She knew how much he disliked her motive for joining showbiz. She even knew how little he liked anything involving Shō.

He must be so disappointed.

"I... should go," she said quietly.

Ren felt a small, sudden panic overwhelm him. "Can't you... confide in me?"

Kyōko looked up at him in surprise. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated instead.

"I..."

He looked at her expectantly. What was he expecting? Ren blinked a few times. Good question. He didn't even know if he was prepared for whatever she had to say.

Of course, he wanted her to open up to him.

But did he want her to say anything if it was about Fuwa Shō?

"I..." Kyōko suddenly found it hard to breathe. The room is spinning--I'm losing oxygen--and I can't feel my toes--she panicked. And then she realized her foot was asleep.

Meanwhile, Ren tried to make himself appear relaxed.

He leaned back on one hand, only to slip against the remote and accidentally turn the TV back on. Startled, Ren and Kyōko snapped their attention at the sudden explosion of noise, looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

As he released all of his pent up energy, Ren carefully picked up the remote and turned off the television set. He stole a quick glance at her and felt content as she wiped away the tears of laughter from the corner of her eyes. She finally looked happy, relieved, calm.

Recovering from the last of her giggles, Kyōko caught his eye and smiled. "Thank you," she said honestly.

"For what?" Ren laughed, looking away. For looking like a fool? he thought bemused. It was certainly nothing Tsuruga Ren would like to be thanked for.

"For... allowing me to be here tonight."

He distinctly heard his heart skip a beat as he slowly met her eyes and smiled. She looked at him briefly before averting her eyes, blushing, "I remember the very first time we met. I thought you hated me. You were so mean--you even tossed me out on the street!" she declared this so dramatically that he was forced to laugh, but he was completely and utterly unashamed. He smirked as she continued, "But then, when I realized that you disliked my reason for acting, I was so happy to be able to tell you otherwise." Kyōko lifted her eyes to shyly meet his and smiled.

She had no idea how fast his heart was beating.

"I just wanted... to thank you for all of the time we had together."

Ren suppressed a frown but his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Mogami-san, that's nothing that you should thank me for," he started to say.

"I know," Kyōko answered meekly. "I just... I wanted... knowing you..." she faltered. She swallowed and said with finality, "I just wanted to thank you for everything."

Ren almost couldn't understand what she was saying. He should've been happy at the things she said but he couldn't help feeling that... "But what?" he demanded loudly. Why did it feel like she was saying goodbye?

She flinched and looked away. Couldn't she just leave it at that? Was it so obvious that she had something more to say? She could lie to him and pretend that nothing was wrong. Or she could smile and just walk away without revealing a thing.

It was like she could do anything.

Anything but hold on to Ren.

How much did she want her revenge?

Ren refrained from clenching his fists. He suppressed his anger and calmed his temper but all he could think about was that damned commercial.

Don't ask.

Kyōko got up hesitantly and looked away.

Don't tell.

Ren swallowed as he watched her get up from her seat and pick up her half-eaten dinner. "Fuwa's Second Debut?" he suggested quietly, wondering if his voice sounded as bitter as he felt.

Kyōko stopped with her back facing Ren.

Shrugging it off, she walked to the kitchen and threw away her leftovers. She removed the pans from the stove and put them quietly in the sink. Then, she absentmindedly started staring at the empty wall in front of her.

Today started like any ordinary day. Except she knew that it was different. It had been marked differently. She remembered it differently. Even now, it made her feel differently.

She heard Ren enter the kitchen so she untangled herself from her thoughts and moved away from the sink, randomly picking up the cutting board to discard the leftover cuttings. She could feel him standing in the doorway, demanding an explanation.

She had warned herself of this, thousands of times before.

She couldn't have it both ways.

Ren slipped into the kitchen beside her, picking up the basket of unused vegetables and putting them into a new plastic bag. He continued to keep his hands busy but his mind refused to remain blank. It was fine if she didn't want to talk about it. He wouldn't force her to talk about it.

Actually, he was sure that it would be easy to make her cave in.

No, he shook his head. He reiterated to himself that he wouldn't force her into talking about it.

But the silence in the kitchen was stifling and unbearable. Ren tried to think of a handful of things to say to change the mood but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't be awkward. He couldn't make a joke out of it--they had both been so serious. But if he didn't say anything now, she would think that he was angry at her.

She had a tendency to think that.

Not that he ever gave her any reason not to.

He unconsciously sighed.

"I'm sorry," he immediately heard her apologize again.

Surprised, he calmly put whatever he was holding in the sink and waited expectantly but she refused to face him. She only continued to clean some nondescript kitchen item with her hands while shutting him out of sight.

Kyōko took in a deep breath of air and hoped for some confidence before confessing, "I'm grateful that you gave me the opportunity to explain why I love acting. And please believe me when I said that I'm trying to make a new me, someone that loves learning and experiencing new things--"

She swallowed, placed the things into the sink and faced him seriously. "But Shō is getting better and bigger every day," Kyōko said darkly. "And I haven't done a thing to get closer to him."

Ren's vision narrowed as he became overwhelmed by a familiar, sinking emotion. It was how she talked so passionately about another man--the words she used, the thoughts that occupied her mind--he needed to escape her, away from the helpless way she made him think, made him feel--

Instead, he found himself trapped--suffocating, drowning--hopelessly trapped, wanting to be by her side.

"Acting is all I have," she whispered honestly. "I know you don't want me to use acting as a tool for revenge... but I don't know what else to use."

"You don't have to--" he forced out, his voice sounding strangled in his own ears.

"I do!"

Ren angrily took a step towards her, gripping onto the counter for emotional leverage.

Run, run, run.

"Why are you wasting your life going after him?" he asked her distastefully, unable to mask the disgust in his voice. He wanted to be cool, calm, and collected--act the way Tsuruga Ren would act--but he wanted to know; he needed to know. "Why can't you just forget--hasn't he taken enough of your time?"

"I gave him my time of my own free will!" Kyōko cried wretchedly, more to herself than at Ren.

He turned away frustration. Why was he doing this? Why was he pushing this? He knew all of this already--

"Two years ago," she started quietly, vehemently, allowing her feelings to get the best of her--

Stop, stop, stop--

Don't open this box.

"He signed his contract with Akatoki agency and asked me--me!--to move to Tokyo to be his housekeeper," she spat, twisting her fingers in her hands. "I thought it was the happiest day of my life... I've even told him--how many times?--that I would remember that day forever--and today... today, he taunts me with his newest release--taunting me with the day we ran away together."

Kyōko had never felt so much bitterness and hatred exposed for someone else to see.

"How," she whispered, "could I forget about that?"

Ren, Ren, Ren.

She was so overwhelmed with guilt and shame. They were old feelings, washing over her. It was as if time had never changed. Yet there was something else that was beginning to grip the corners of her mind. Something newer, something darker.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. She couldn't even look at him. But he was the only thing she could see. She swallowed but it was as if she was suffocating. She tried to step around him, hoping to retreat into the living room, as if walking away from all of this could stop her heart from feeling--

"I don't want you to apologize," he said quietly, stopping her at the door.

He looked down at her with tenderness and desperation.

"I want you to forget about revenge."

Forget about Shō.

She returned his gaze.

He dared her to refuse him.

And suddenly, he felt their relationship change.

Kyōko tore her eyes away from him and walked away.

And he let her.

---------- // ----------

"Mogami-san," Seiji called out, beckoning her over to him.

Kyōko untangled herself from underneath the water fountain and plastered herself against the wall before scurrying over to Seiji.

Seiji wryly smiled and watched her without a word. He didn't know how long she would continue acting like this but--he was sad to admit--he was kind of getting used to it. She quickly skittered over to his side and hid behind him.

"Do you see anyone?" she whispered self-consciously.

"Nope, I don't see anyone," he answered easily. She pulled away from him and looked suspiciously all around her. Of course, he was lying to her. There were people everywhere--assistants, secretaries, movie stars, singers, models, reporters--did she think the world was going to change overnight?

Regardless of the obvious presence of people, she seemed relatively satisfied with his answer and reluctantly came out of hiding.

After five days, he still hadn't quite figured out who she was hiding from.

When he first caught her shying away from the main corridors, hiding in random niches and refusing to take the main elevators, he thought she had done something wrong and wondered if he should be worried. But each time she saw a sudden onslaught of people, she would predictably find shelter--only to stop and stare as the crowd passed by. His interest piqued and he found himself taking notes as she continued on her march of paranoia.

Seiji reckoned that she wasn't in trouble but it was obvious that she was avoiding something--someone.

And once he started asking questions, he had somehow been enlisted to be her second pair of eyes with the mistaken assumption that he knew what he was doing. Which had been even more amusing, since he had no idea who or what he was looking for. For all he knew, he could be leading her straight into the lion's den.

Huh.

That's exactly what it seemed like: like she was being hunted.

Seiji looked at her and asked half-jokingly, "Coast clear?"

Kyōko nodded somberly and stepped in stride beside him.

So her hunter wasn't in this group of people. He carefully analyzed the crowd, as if he were picking out clues to a board game. He wondered briefly if she was just playing a trick on him. What if there was nothing to hide from after all? What if she was just lost in her imagination and she really was crazy?

Well, he thought in her defense, it's not like he wasn't doing his own bit of hiding. He just had a little more finesse, that's all. Between the two of them and their loitering at LME, they had been doing nothing but playing hide and seek with their respective pursuers, and doing everything but working on the drama for Muranaka. Which was why he was avoiding Takarada.

But he was so entertained by Kyōko that he didn't even feel the slightest bit of regret.

Or... well... he felt a tinge of regret.

He could honestly admit that he felt sorry for Muranaka-san, who had put so much faith in him. She was probably as much of a victim as he was and the very least he could do is to start seriously thinking about the screenplay, if only for her sake.

Kyōko gave a little cry of surprise, startling Seiji out of his pity-party. "Would you like some coffee?" she squeaked. "I'm going to get us some coffee."

Seiji opened his mouth to respond but she had already darted into another corridor.

"Shingai-san."

Seiji turned absentmindedly to see Ren and Yukihito approaching him. He thought back to the empty corridor, wondering if he should give chase--

Yukihito politely bowed and asked him simply, "How are you?"

"I'm good," Seiji answered automatically, turning back to face the two men. "Tsuruga-kun, hisashi--" he started, but found himself following Ren's gaze into the empty corridor behind him.

Ren released a wistful sigh. For a moment, Seiji thought he saw a flicker of yearning or remorse in his usually intense but solid gaze.

Oh.

Oh, Seiji thought suddenly. The large crowds. The onslaught of screaming fan girls. Things slowly clicked into place.

"Shingai-san," Ren greeted after a moment. "Sorry, I got distracted."

"Not a problem." Seiji felt a bit distracted himself. "What are you doing here today?"

Ren shook his head but smiled wryly. "Shachō-san sent me with a message."

Seiji thought his face fell but he was too busy walking away to pick it up. Ren laughed and caught up to him. "Oh come on," Ren teased. "It can't be that bad."

He knew he should've avoided Ren--a.k.a. Takarada Number One. "I'm a director. He wants me to write," he grumbled. Ren laughed. "Hey," he challenged. "It's like you, singing, ok?"

Yukihito chuckled but Ren merely shrugged. "I model?" Ren offered sympathetically.

"What does the old man want now?"

"Sixteen episodes."

"No."

"Really?"

"Yes." Seiji stopped suddenly. "What do you think he really wants?"

Ren shook his head easily and answered, "To know you're working."

Well then, "You can tell him it'll be twelve or less," Seiji retorted.

"Sure." Ren paused.

Seiji thought of something to say but stopped, allowing Ren to collect his own thoughts.

"Could you..." he started quietly.

There was no use in pretending that he didn't know. Seiji waited somberly.

Ren shook his head and smiled. "It's nothing." There was nothing to say. "Well, I'll catch you later."

Seiji nodded, slightly disappointed as he watched as Ren walk away with Yukihito following suspiciously behind him. Then he waited until Ren was long out of view before he called out in his covert voice, "You're clear."

Kyōko meekly slid out from her hiding place. He eyed her suspiciously as she fiddled with her hands. "Where's the coffee?"

Kyōko guiltily looked away and he laughed.

She looked so young and innocent. She should be able to make her own mistakes and choose her own choices... but it was hard not to want to shelter her from heartache and folly.

"Ne, Mogami-kun?" he prodded gently.

Kyōko glanced at him and raised her eyebrows unassumingly.

Seiji smiled kindly but asked honestly, "Haven't you been punishing him long enough?"

She turned away, refusing to meet his eyes.

He sighed. She was forcing him to take a big leap of faith... "Tsuruga-san would like to see you."

Kyōko flinched and brought her eyes to meet Seiji's against her will.

From her brief reaction, he almost immediately wished that he hadn't.

Without a word, Seiji left her to be alone, regretting that he had said anything at all. No, it was more than that. He felt as if he had just done the worst thing in the world.

For whatever reason she was avoiding Ren, it was tearing her apart.

That much was obvious.

The poor girl--she wasn't punishing him.

At the risk of sounding cliché, he mused, she was only punishing herself.

Seiji casually raised his hands over his head and cupped the back of his neck. That was quite possibly one of the most depressing things he had ever seen in real life, he thought to himself, as he kicked open the door of his office. But as far as he could tell, she had no intention of seeing Ren. In fact, she seemed perfectly willing to pretend that she hadn't even seen him in the first place.

Well, why not then.

If she didn't want to see Ren, then she didn't have to see Ren, Seiji thought suddenly, as if it was a stroke of genius. He reached over his cluttered desk, swiped aside some random documents and located his desk phone. On second thought, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, looking for the number that Kyōko gave him. After dialing impatiently, he waited for the connection, only to get her voice message.

Figures.

"Mogami-kun, it's Director Shingai. Come meet me at the office tomorrow at 8.

"We have work to do."

Satisfied, he hung up the phone and left the office.

---------- // ----------

Yukihito didn't know what to do. Ren was obviously unhappy, but Ren was also very obviously Ren, so he was hiding behind his gentlemanly smile and pretending as if there wasn't a care in the world.

From the way Kyōko ran off earlier and the way that Ren ignored her, Yukihito couldn't help but feel that something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

And damn it!--not knowing was killing him inside.

Yukihito discreetly pulled out his planner and started to remind Ren of the next's day's agenda, finally ending with, "And don't forget dinner with Shachō-san at seven."

Ren nodded but Yukihito wondered briefly if he was even paying attention to him.

"Say, Ren," he started hesitantly. Yukihito mulled over some words in his head, wondering what would be the best approach. "Did you remember to give back the script to Kyōko-chan?"

Ooh, that was pretty slick.

Ren paused and reached into Yukihito's suitcase, pulling out the now, very familiar script and handed it personally to Yukihito. Ren smiled sheepishly, saying, "I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. I haven't seen Mogami-san all week, so could you please give this back to her for me?"

Yukihito looked at him in aghast horror. Lies! Blatant lies! Tears threatened to overflow as his eyes shamelessly cried, How could you lie to your manager like that?

Ren patted Yukihito on the shoulder sympathetically. "Well, I would appreciate it if you could manage anything relating to Mogami-san yourself."

Yukihito felt frozen to the core as Ren stepped into the elevator without him.

It was as if he had said just as clearly, "Stop meddling with my life."

Yukihito remained staring at the closing doors, holding the script like an unwanted sock.

What did he do wrong?

No, no. It's not that he did anything wrong. The real question was, what happened between Sunday and Thursday that caused this awful rift?

Damn it.

He didn't know.

He reached forward and unhappily pressed the elevator button, fully intending on finding out. Within moments, he stepped off the elevator and onto the sixth floor where he was almost certain he'd be able to find Kyōko and get his answers.

Approaching the Love Me member's section, he tapped hesitantly on the door. "Anō, Kyōko-chan?"

The door flung open and he found himself staring face to face with a very unhappy-looking Kotonami Kanae, fully decked in her pink Love Me uniform.

Kanae gave Yukihito a good looking over, recognizing him as Tsuruga Ren's manager. "Mogami-san is not here at the moment," she informed him shortly.

Yukihito opened his mouth to speak but he had no idea what he was going to do next. "Have you seen her?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Kanae shook her head, her long black hair swaying with her abrupt movements. "If you walk around LME long enough, you could probably bump into her and Director Shingai playing in the hallways."

He didn't know what that was supposed to mean.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked promptly.

"Oh, no," Yukihito answered quickly. "I just wanted to return this to her." He raised the script with a casual shrug.

"Oh! That's mine!" Kanae reached for the script with a puzzled look on her face. "But what are you doing with it?"

I stole it. And I got in trouble for it. "Uh... It's yours?"

"Oh, well, yes, it's Mogami-san's now," Kanae answered easily. "I was originally assigned to work on it, but..." she trailed off. She shook her head, "Anyway, I can give it to her if you--"

"No, no," he replied quickly. "I can do it. With Director Shingai, you said?"

---------- // ----------

Kyōko smiled and took the box off her shoulder. "Where do you want these?"

"Uh, over here's fine. You can unload the box and put the manga on the coffee table."

Kyōko did as she was instructed, setting the box on the kitchen counter and unpacking the books one by one. They had spent the entire last hour whirling around his office, packing nearly half of the room, and moving all of the boxes into his home. It was a strange and exhilarating turn of events but she loved every moment of it.

Despite the luxurious feel of his apartment, Kyōko had the nagging suspicion that he rarely used it. She picked up a good number of books in her arm and walked through the dining room area to the living room, where two plush couches faced each other, separated by simple but large, white coffee table. For a distinctly traditional man, Shingai-san sure liked his modern décor.

Setting the books on the table, Kyōko stood up and looked through the sliding glass doors to the outdoor balcony. Entranced by the beckoning sun, her body unwillingly started floating toward the outdoors.

"Could you please open them for me, Mogami-kun?"

Kyōko absentmindedly smiled at the affectionate use of her surname and gladly pushed open both doors. Oh how the light shone so happily!

The balcony was more of a large patio area, sporting a dining table with four chairs, lavishly covered by an expensive awning. And the flowers... bloomed everywhere. Large, colorful and complementary blossoms seemed to reach out to her each time she turned. She flushed with happiness and let out a deep breath of air.

"Mogami-kun!" Seiji called again, eying the half-empty box in front of him. He almost laughed at her absentminded tendencies.

"Hai!" Kyōko called back immediately, running in from the balcony.

Ignoring the open box, he handed to her a large plastic container instead. "Could you water the plants, please?" She beamed at him before running back outside and attacking the watering hose attached to the wall.

Seiji looked amused as he pushed aside the half-empty box that she had been moving and continued cooking breakfast. He almost couldn't believe that he was going this much out of his way to accommodate her.

He could only attribute this to the nagging guilt he had from the last time they met.

... and the time before that.

He caught a flash of pink out of the corner of his eye as she floated down the length of his balcony and chuckled to himself. If he didn't stop paying attention to her soon, he was going to burn breakfast.

What was he thinking, asking Lory's permission to keep her?

He wasn't a keeping an assistant--!

He was keeping a pet!

She flitted across the kitchen window again.

Now, one very happy, carefree pet.

He unexpectedly thought of Ren's uncharacteristic expression that day in the hallway and sighed. There was not very much he could do for Ren, though, he thought unfortunately. Even if there were, that stubborn guy would be too proud to get any relational help. And for that matter, getting her out of the LME building might not have been the best move in favor of Ren, but at least it'll give her the space and freedom that she needs.

Seiji could only hope that time will heal her wounds and allow her to patch things up with Ren.

But for now, it was about time that he start seriously working on this screenplay. He eyed the box in front of him and contemplated burning it with the rest of his breakfast. Letting out a gloomy sigh, he pushed the box out of the way and started to plate the food, calling Kyōko back in the process.

She returned from her outdoor excursion, looking bright and refreshed. "Oh, the boxes!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering what she was supposedly there fore.

Seiji just chuckled and said, "Leave it, we can finish unpacking later." He indicated to the chair across the counter and politely told her to start eating, so she smiled and thanked him for the meal. Seiji stood across the from her, choosing to remain standing as he started eating.

"Ne, Shingai-san, why don't you want to work on this?" she asked innocently.

Seiji looked at her wryly. "Is it that obvious?"

She grinned in reply. She could list a couple of reasons: avoiding work for a week, moving his entire office, cooking breakfast... "I was just wondering."

Seiji continued chew on a bit of food as he thought about how to reply. "Well, I sort of have a complex. I'm sort of neurotic," he said, only half-jokingly. "Actually, I used to really like writing screenplays. There was just something... invigorating about dictating how peoples' lives would be played out, the words that they speak, or the actions that they make.

"But that simple joy started changing when I became a director. All of a sudden, it wasn't as simple as telling a story and just reading through the lines. It's like I had to see the scene perfectly, from beginning to end. I thought constantly about the setting and the lighting, what the actors wore, how they moved--not that I didn't see all of that stuff before. It just... became... so finely detailed in my mind... and I easily got frustrated." His voice trailed off as he realized he was talking more to himself than to her. He laughed self-consciously. "Anyway," he continued, looking right at her. "It became complicated."

Kyōko pursed her lips and thought to herself. "How hard do you think it would be now, since you're making an adaptation? I mean," she added hastily, picking up the first manga volume from the box. "With this manga, you already know what they look like, the words that they say, you even know what they do or what they're facial expressions are supposed to look like--"

Seiji laughed, not unkindly. "Well, Mogami-kun, when you were in Dark Moon, did you watch your older character and memorize all of her facial expressions?" He looked at her seriously. "Or did you want to create something that was uniquely yours?"

Kyōko drew in a sharp breath of air as she realized his point. "So what I did for one character..."

He smiled and winked at her. "I do for all of them." He picked up his dishes and placed them into the sink behind him. Kyōko blinked and rushed to finish the rest of her plate--Shingai-san sure ate fast, she grumbled.

Barely finishing the food in her mouth, she rushed over to the other side of the counter to put her dishes away as well. "Well," she said with a swallow. "Do you not like the manga?"

Seiji looked at her with surprise. "I don't think it matters, does it? Takarada-san's pretty much sentenced the next six months to it anyway."

Kyōko pushed him out of the way and picked up the scrubbing sponge. "Of course it matters. If you liked it, or found some way to like it, wouldn't you want to work on it more?"

Seiji scoffed at her and contemplated wresting the sink away from her. "Aren't you stating the obvious?" he shot back.

"Well do you?" she retorted, just as obnoxiously.

Seiji rolled the question around in his mind.

Kyōko stopped washing the dishes suddenly. "Have you even read it yet?" she asked incredulously.

He flashed a smile at her. "We're doing that today!" he answered smartly as he pushed himself away from the counter, bounding away to a living room full of boxes.

Kyōko's jaw dropped. Un... believable.

True to his word, as soon as she finished washing the dishes, he tossed her volume one of the manga series and plopped himself down on a couch, volume two in hand. Kyōko wanted to stand there gaping at him but realized that it would be a sore waste of time. With a resigned sigh, she curled herself up on the other couch and started reading.

Kyōko couldn't remember the last time she felt so relaxed doing... nearly nothing. For the next few hours, they sat on the couches together, simply reading manga. She found herself laughing and smiling and blushing with the characters. At times she even broke with the characters, yelling at them under her breath when they did something stupid. She would've almost completely zoned out Seiji if it weren't for the fact that he read so slowly. "Are you done yet?" Kyōko asked exasperatedly but teasingly.

Seiji made a face at her and threw a pillow at her direction. She laughed and dodged out of the way. "For the fifth time--no!"

"Fine!" she said with a laugh. She got up and stretched, and decided to make lunch for the two of them.

Seiji watched her out of the corner of his eye, smiling secretly to himself. Surprisingly, the manga in itself was entertaining to read--but it was actually a lot more interesting to watch Kyōko's reaction to certain scenes. Seiji put down volume five and picked up the previous volume, looking for the section that she particularly enjoyed.

He skimmed through it and finally put it down as he contemplated.

"Shingai-san," Kyōko called from the kitchen. "Can I use anything?"

"Nn, sure," he called back, slightly preoccupied with other matters. After a few moments, he went back and finished volume five so he could start the next volume before Kyōko could nag at him.

And they continued like this throughout the rest of the afternoon, reading manga, getting up to stretch, switching books back and forth. When Seiji finished the entire series, he flopped back into the couch and took a good look at Kyōko, who had gone back to read another volume. "Mogami-san," he said finally. She looked up expectantly. "Tomorrow, before you come here, take these novels to LME. Have the staff make enlargements of the first eight volumes, and bring them in separated ring binders. Got it?"

The next morning, she returned with a large box filled with binders, as instructed. She just... hadn't expected him to be in his pajamas still. He sheepishly smiled at her and let her in. Instead of being decently embarrassed, she snorted at him before laughing whole-heartedly at his sheep printed clothing.

After a nice friendly morning quarrel, Kyōko set to work organizing the twenty odd boxes of documents and miscellaneous paraphernalia that they packed the previous day. Seiji moved the coffee table out of the way to sprawl across the living room floor with a new sense of motivation.

And so they fell into a steady rhythm. After the first few days, Kyōko showed up at his apartment complex in the early afternoons after her high school and acting classes had ended. While she wasn't much help as a screenwriter's assistant, she did everything else she could do to make his work flow smoother. She looked after him, cooked for him, watered his plants, and provided a moment of relief whenever he got frustrated.

Otherwise, they found out that they rarely had to talk to each other once they got into the swing of things.

Seiji had an untidy habit of moving around as he worked. Sometimes he even brought the entire crowd of paperwork with him but more often than not, he would lose one document at a time. By the time she appeared in the afternoons, he knew he had made a complete mess of the place, but only she knew exactly how to untangle him from his own abode. While it confused and overwhelmed her at first, she suddenly developed a scheme of cleaning up after him every so often, dedicating certain areas of the house to a particular topic or scene study. Within time, he got used to her following him around, picking up after him, pestering him, assisting him, and helping him focus. And whenever she was not babysitting him, she studied for a class or focused on an assignment.

Then there would be moments like this one, when he couldn't help but stop whatever he was doing to listen to her be at peace. In the evenings, after they had finished eating dinner together, she would escape to the terrace and water the plants. Once she was out there, she was in an entirely different world. The first time he caught her talking to the plants, he just laughed and dismissed her as his crazy little assistant. But then, just like he slowly got used to her, she slowly got used to her new haven and opened herself up to the place. He enjoyed working as she whispered and chatted amiably to his plants, and maybe even to herself. But on evenings when she lost herself and started humming a sweet melody, he would stop everything, lean back in his chair and let the day's troubles roll off his mind.

Startled, he pushed himself off the couch and drifted over to the kitchen window. Silently making his way to the window sill, he pushed open the window wider and listened as her voice drifted on the wind, carrying louder and further than she realized.

It was the first time he had ever heard her sing. Her voice was quiet, breathy, and unpolished but it carried a sweet, light melody laced with a tinge of sorrow.

He leaned back against the kitchen counter and let out a breath of air.

She could be a wonderful Aika, he thought absentmindedly, lingering in the moment.

His eyes widened with dawning realization.

She really could be--

Seiji quickly rushed back to his coffee table, his heart pounding in his chest.

It fit.

It all made perfect sense--

Her smile, her laugh--the way her vicarious nature completely enveloped the people around her.

This was the side that no one's seen before.

All of her roles had shown the darker side of her, witty, clever, manipulative, hateful--but with the combined strength of an energetic and carefree nature--yes!

Yes.

She was the only one that could play his Aika.

---------- // ----------

In the main lobby at the center of the LME building, Shiori got up from her chair and greeted Yokiko with a generous smile. "Takarada-san is waiting for you," she informed Yokiko. "Please excuse the mess, he's... undergoing construction," she phrased tactfully.

Yokiko gave her a sympathetic smile and thanked her for her service. Taking in a large breath, she pushed open the double doors leading to his office. "Takarada-kun," she said gravely.

"Yoki-chan!" Lory greeted cheerfully, getting off from his maestro stand. He waved off the men working on the miniature stage in his office. "What brings you here today?"

Yokiko smiled as she walked around his stage and approached his desk--apparently the only staple that remains despite the changing... seasons. "I was just wondering how far you are along in your plans."

Lory chuckled and smoothed out his white velvet penguin suit as he approached her at the desk. He carefully eyed the stack of papers that she set on the table. "I think it's going quite well. He's been working, so I hear, and he's planned a total of ten episodes."

Yokiko clucked quietly to herself. "Short, isn't it?"

"No, just normal. Depending on what material he uses, I think he might leave enough room for a second season, if it gets well received."

She turned to face him, noting the clean-shaven face around his mustache and tactfully asked, "Has he approached you with any plans to direct?"

Lory smiled. "Yes."

Yokiko clasped her hands over her mouth, barely covering a huge smile of joy. "Really?"

"No, but he will," Lory smirked.

Her expression quickly changed as she snatched the papers from the desk and started hitting him over the head. Lory laughed and caught her hands in his. "Yoki-chan, Yoki-chan," he murmured endearingly. "He's agreed--he's decided he has the right."

Yokiko heaved a sigh of relief and almost collapsed. It was so nerve-wrecking, waiting and hoping that Lory would be right. She had turned down multiple offers because she really, truly believed in Lory. Biting her lip, she tried to suppress a smile and the need to bash him on the head again. She blew out a breath of air and smiled genuinely before admitting, "I'm so glad."

Lory smiled and nodded. "So, what do we have here?" he asked, as he picked through the packet of papers.

"It's been so long since we asked Shingai-san to work on it... when we hadn't heard anything in a month, I started looking at some other directors whose style I liked," Yokiko admitted sheepishly. "I'm sure, since he's directing it now... that he has his own plans, so I guess we won't be needing this anymore."

As he sifted through the files of directors, Lory stopped on one manila folder and tilted it in order to read the label. "And this one, Yokiko-chan?" Lory casually brushed aside dark strands of hair from his face and pretended to nonchalantly peer into the contents of the folder. His eyes narrowed on the headshot portrait of a proud, blonde young man, whose image confirmed the worst of his suspicions. He wasn't one of LME's singers, but he wasn't a stranger to Lory, either.

Yokiko smoothed the sides of her pants nervously. "That's what I came to talk to you about."

Lory set down the other folders and slowly met her shifty eyes. "What do you hope to achieve with this?" he asked quietly.

"He's the one thing I want for this drama." Yokiko stared at him evenly in the eye, swallowed nervously, and took in a deep breath. "They've already agreed to let me use him and he's agreed as well. It's what I've planned on if I ever made a drama in Japan, Lory-kun--Look," she said, quickly flipping through the first few pages and clumsily dropping them on the floor. "We even have the contract written out--he just needs to finalize it--"

Lory looked at her without expression before turning his head away.

Yokiko reached out hesitantly and frantically hoped that he was just toying with her again. "Takarada-kun," she started in a small voice.

"Don't, Yokiko."

Yokiko flinched and drew back.

Coldly, he slowly walked around his desk and tossed the manila folder on the table between them. "I'll have director Shingai arrange a meeting. For now," he said quietly, "I think it would be best if you left."

---------- // ----------

**Glossary**:  
**-san**: name suffix, sign of respect between peers  
**-sama**: name suffix, sign of respect to higher authorities  
**-kun**: name suffix, casual term of affection, typically for males  
**-chan**: name suffix, casual term of affection, typically for females  
**shachō**: president  
**taishō**: male owner of an establishment; boss  
**tadaima**: greeting you say when you return home  
**okaerinasai**: greeting others say to you when you return home  
**mangaka**: manga artist or author  
**manga**: graphic novel  
**ohayō gozaimasu**: good morning, slightly formal (Nakamura-sensei mentions that the Japanese show biz uses "ohayō gozaimasu" as a greeting, regardless of the time of day; I'm not sure about that, but I'll stick with it for her sake!)  
**Hisashiburi desu**: roughly translated as "It's been a long time"; slightly formal, said between peers  
**ne**: when used at the end of a sentence, stated with the expectation of agreement (for example: "hisashiburi desu ne" could be roughly translated as "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"); it can also be used as a filler word, roughly translated as "hey"  
**Hisashiburi**: roughly translated as "It's been a long time"; less formal, said between peers and friends (Better translated as "Long time, no see!")  
**anō**: a filler word, roughly translated as "um," "uh," or "excuse me"  
**hai**: an affirmation, roughly translated as "yes," "ok," or "sure"

**Author's Notes**: Like I said earlier, this is the final draft of chapter one. I promised myself that I would post this edit when the first draft of chapter two was completed, but when I realized that there were still a lot of new visitors reading "Second Chance," I knew I should post this sooner rather than later. Frankly, I was very surprised and slightly shocked at the number of reviews! For a very small section of Skip Beat FanFiction, I thought there would be... maybe 30 unique viewers--but I am glad to be wrong! 50 unique reviews for one chapter is more than flattering--it's nearly intimidating! I also know there's a heavy number of readers that subscribe, but have yet to review. So one of my goals is to write so well, that you can't resist reviewing :p Thank you so much for everyone that has read and reviewed this chapter. I've always used reviews to gauge whether a story is even worth finishing--much less starting--so thank you from the bottom of my very humbled writer's heart!

As you may have noticed, I've included a hefty Japanese glossary. I'd like some feedback whether it's better to see it at the beginning or at the end. I didn't even realize how much Japanese I'd unconsciously used until Parsnip pointed it out. Honestly, I thought I only put three or four Japanese words, but now I know better! I'll try to keep the glossary short from here on out, but it's actually the only way I've found to keep Ren decently true to character--he is notoriously difficult to portray. Please keep in mind that I've attempted to establish this story far in the future, to give me room to grow, and very little chance to coincide with any events Nakamura-sensei might throw at me.

I'm also glad that a vast majority of readers agree that the characters have remained "in character." It is my number one pet peeve to see an Anime or Manga that I love get butchered to pieces in FanFiction. I'm all for alternate universes and "What if" scenarios, but badly written characterizations without purpose or rationality drives me nuts! I am also glad that there are some that disagree, because it will always keep me in check if I know there's someone out there that thinks that I can do better.

Lastly, chapter two is well on it's way. I want to be able to publish a final draft, and not a lazy rough draft. And it's taking longer than I hoped because... well, because it's long. Also keep in mind that I am precariously establishing two separate stories: "Second Chance" the FanFiction, and "Second Chance" the drama. There are more intricacies to both than I originally cared for, so... forgive my compulsions and expect great things. I'll make it good so keep the feedback coming. After all, I do listen to everything you guys have to say--good, and bad. Until then!

Cheers,  
LyL


End file.
